Just Breathe
by rjwritergirl
Summary: JJ and Hotch talk about Emily and Seaver.


**Here's a fic that I kind of spit out in my frustration about Seaver. Now before the Seaver-likers come out and say I'm a Seaver Hater, I'd like to put it out on the internet that I _don't_ hate Seaver. I am trying to give her a chance, I'm just having a very hard time believing that the BAU would really bring in a cadet and keep her, especially after Hotch told Emily that not just anyone could walk in and give profiling a whirl. If Seaver had more experience in the FBI I'd have no problem with her. I tried to keep the rant respectful in this fic, so please don't hate me.**

**My beta flashpenguin did an incredible job with this, she always does a great job with whatever I send her. :D**

**Soo... after my long and slightly ranty Authors note, here's the story.**

"Hey." Hotch caught JJ's attention as he sat down next to her at the bar.

"Hey Hotch," JJ greeted as she motioned to the bartender, he began making a drink.

"I ordered for you, hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Hotch replied. He and JJ looked at each other for a moment before JJ spoke:

"How's work?"

He shrugged indifferently as the bartender put something in front of him.

"Something about that drink," JJ said, by the tone of her voice Hotch suddenly realized that JJ had had a few drinks, "it's really good, but very alcoholic, so only have a few."

"She's been cut off for the rest of the night," the bartender spoke up from where he was wiping down the bar.

"What is this drink, and how many have you had?" Hotch asked, alarmed.

"That's her third, but they've all been Irish Car Bombs," the bartender spoke up again. "I told her when I gave her that one," he pointed to the nearly empty glass in JJ's hand, "that she'd been cut off for the rest of the night."

"Thank you," Hotch said, then he turned to the former Media Liaison. "JJ why don't we get you home, or would you prefer a hotel room? You don't want to get woken up by Henry early tomorrow morning."

"My son is off attending camp Grandma," JJ slurred, "and Will is on a business trip, so when we are done here, I can just run on home and sleep this off." She made running motions but didn't get out of her chair.

"Let's get you home right now," Hotch suggested. He turned to the bar tender once more. "Did she pay you for..." he man nodded.

"Yes. She even paid for yours, too."

Hotch got a bill out of his pocket anyway and dropped it on the bar. "I'll take her home." He guided JJ off the stool and out of the bar. Holding on tight, he guided her down the sidewalk to the waiting car. JJ may have always appeared to weigh no more than a feather, but looks were deceiving and with the alcohol in her system, she seemed to have lost more than her inhibitions as his body bore the brunt of her weight and his arms struggled to keep her upright as he fished for his keys.

Unlocking the door, he pulled it open and tried to steer her inside. She pushed against him and he tried to make her sit down.

"I don't want to go home," JJ argued plaintively, her lower lip pouted.

"Sorry, Jen, but the bartender cut you off and that is a clear signal that you need to call it a night," Hotch replied as he lifted her legs inside the interior.

"I would expect that from you."

Hotch pulled back. "What?"

JJ let out her breath in one heavy puff. "That you would be an old fuddy duddy."

Hotch tried to suppress a grin. "That's a word I haven't heard in a while."

"Well, it applies. And since you aren't my boss anymore, I can call you anything I like," JJ amended. "Because you're not my boss…anymore…" Her voice trailed as Hotch walked around the car and got inside.

Starting the engine, his hand paused on the gear shift. "What on earth possessed you to get this drunk?" He asked, not expecting an answer.

"It's a secret," JJ whispered. "Only you and I can know."

"Well then why don't you tell me?" Hotch prompted."I can't; we're not alone." JJ fumbled with the seatbelt, before finally snapping it secure.

"Let's get you home." Hotch stated. Putting the car in gear, he eased slowly on to the nearly vacant street.

"Now what was the secret that possessed you to get so drunk?" Hotch asked. He cast a glance out of the corner of his eye at the blonde who was resting her head against the cool passenger window.

"I miss Emily." JJ said.

Hotch didn't respond for a moment as he changed lanes. "I miss Emily too," he finally said.

"I understand that people move on and things change, but so soon after I leave and after Emily…" her voice trailed off.

"There was an opening on the team and if I and Dave didn't choose, Strauss would have done it for us. She would have tried to bring in another mole."

"Like she did with Emily." JJ waited for a response that didn't come. "I know about that underhanded thing Strauss tried to do to you…the team…I hated her. It was wrong."

"It's over and done now, Jen," Hotch placated.

"But there is a new member on the team and she isn't even a profiler! She's still green as…" JJ tried to find the word but came up empty. "She's not ready to be on the team."

"She's a fast learner," Hotch supplied.

"She almost got herself killed the first time she went out into the field."

"It was a mistake and it won't happen again." Hotch turned the steering wheel gently to maneuver the long curve.

"We've all done things to jeopardize our careers at one time or another…"

"I know," JJ admitted reluctantly as the memory of her being hit in the head with a shovel by an UNSUB came back to haunt her.

"Seaver is a little green, but she has potential…if we give her time and work with her."

JJ snorted. "Weren't you the one who told Emily that not just anyone could walk in and be a 'profiler'?"

"That was different."

"Different because it was too soon after Elle? Or different because she was the silver spooned, spoiled, pampered daughter of a U.S. ambassador?" JJ gave a dry humorless laugh.

"Emily stood behind her. Dave stood behind her," Hotch replied.

"How do you feel about her? Be honest or I'll throw up all over your leather interior," JJ warned.

"She'll be a good agent; she just doesn't have the experience that the BAU needs."

"Why have you kept her around then?" JJ asked. She closed her eyes to help stop the world from spinning.

"Emily saw something in her, and I see good potential for her, if she's in another unit. I may end up signing off on her transfer, though."

"Guilt over Emily or to spite Strauss?"

Hotch gripped the steering wheel so hard he wondered why it didn't break."You remember after Elle snapped and quit and you told me to look for a replacement?" JJ continued her rant. "You told me that the team could survive with what we had…even though I wasn't a profiler, per se and Garcia got queasy from the sight of blood. No one was good enough; every prospect was kicked out. You and Gideon raised the bar so high and cut the list down so much that I was tempted to suggest a cadet." JJ paused for a moment, before continuing "But back then, Erin Strauss would have laughed me out of Quantico if I had even suggested bringing in a cadet, no matter who her father was."

"Somehow the thought of Erin Strauss having an aneurysm seems justified after all we have been through…after all you have been through. She still hates you. She still wants to destroy you. That's why she got rid of me; that's why she approved Ash…Seaver."

"I know."

The silence dragged on between them as the miles clicked by.

"Have you told Dave about Emily?" JJ whispered.

"No. I can't."

"He's your friend."

"Emily is still my agent." Hotch turned to look at her. "Someday when all this is said and done and Doyle has been caught…" Hotch breathed in and then let it out.

"The team is going to hate you."

"I know," Hotch admitted reluctantly. Pulling the car up next to JJ's apartment, he put it in park and turned off the engine. Releasing his seatbelt, he started to get out but JJ's words stopped him.

"They will forgive you in time. Eventually."

"They are still going to hate me."

JJ shook her head. "Not as much as you already hate yourself. You need to let yourself grieve."

"JJ…"

"Drowning my sorrows and guilt might be wrong, but it's helping…in a way. You should have had the drink I bought you."

"I don't drink to drown my guilt," Hotch answered but there was no strength behind his words.

"At least not in public." JJ reached out and touched his hand."For what it's worth, thank you for being there tonight."

"Glad I could help."

JJ forced a small smile. "Want to come in for a drink?"

"Maybe next time."

JJ nodded. "I understand."

"But I'll walk you to your door."

"Ever the gentleman," JJ chortled. She waited for Hotch to open her door and help her inside. As his hand steadied her, she looked up at the broken hearted, guilt ridden Unit Chief. "Hotch, do me a favor when you get home?"

"What?"

"Have a drink."

"I will. Goodnight Jen."

"Good night Hotch." Quietly JJ closed the door behind her. For a moment, Hotch stared at the door. Then he turned on his heel and walked away.

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